Page 106 of Apathy
Just like before, just like in my house, he didn’t say a word, but instead turned around and walked inside, leaving me behind with the four unknown women.
As soon as he disappeared inside, they stood up and started pushing me forward.
I didn’t fight them anymore. I didn’t try to run toward the stairs even though they were close, so fucking close as we approached the tall door, with swirls decorating the wall around it.
I didn’t try to scream as we entered the room, as I came face-to-face with a dozen others, all of them wearing black masks and dark gray cloaks. They all stared back at me, dissecting me, swallowing me from head to toe.
On the right side, the ones with black masks and gray cloaks stood, while on the left side, twelve figures in red cloaks kneeled, their faces turned to the ground. As I took my first tentative step, then another one, the gray ones went down on their knees, and the chorus of voices echoed in the room.
“Sanguinem Sacrificium. Sanctum Sacrificium.”
My eyes strayed to the middle of the room, to the wide set of shoulders and the altar behind him with the chalice on top of it.
“Sanguinem Sacrificium. Sanctum Sacrificium.”
He took the chalice and moved it in front of him, hiding it from my sight.
“Vita Tua. Vita Meae.”
He lifted his hands and looked up, but I didn’t know if he chanted with them. My captors pushed me forward when I stopped in my tracks.
“Tuo Amore. Sanguinem Meum.”
He lifted the chalice as the last person finished the incantation.
“The Union,” they all stood up as one, “is about to start.”
One more step, then two, and finally three, and I was just inches away from the monster haunting me. From the monster who turned my life upside down.
He turned around, and for the first time, I could see his eyes.
Blue as an ocean.
Blue as the clear skies above Winworth on those rare sunny days.
Blue.
Blue.
Blue.
No!
It can’t be.
The four holding me stepped back, blending in with the rest of the crowd, but I couldn’t move my eyes away from him.
He came closer, his hand wrapping around my cheek, softly, carefully, as if he was worried I was going to disappear.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice raspy. If this was the night I was going to die, I wanted to know who killed me. I wanted to know if my assumptions were correct, and I prayed they weren’t.
“Please,” I begged when he didn’t move. “I have the right to know.”
His hand dropped from my face, and he took a step back.
The mask was the first thing that fell, followed by the hood, revealing the hair I knew all too well.
Those steel-blue eyes looked at me. No remorse, no apologies; there was nothing there I used to love. And I loved him, at least I used to.
